Within Enemy Hands
by Aelaer
Summary: Gap-filler. A one-shot exploring what was going on through Doctor Strange's head while he was held captive and tortured by Ebony Maw in Avengers: Infinity War before his timely rescue by Iron Man and Spider-Man.


_It sort of boggles me that several months after the movie, I cannot find a single story dissecting this scene either during or after. Despite what Strange went through with Dormammu, it's still pretty horrific in its own right. So, since I could not find anything resembling its existence… I decided to write it. Or at least a version of it. Would still love to see other versions. *bats eyelashes at fellow writers*_

 _(Also: first non-Tolkien-related fanfic since I started writing 15 years ago! Whee!)_

* * *

When Stephen started to come to, his head softly throbbed to the beat of his heart. It was annoying, and for the first half-second his consciousness was back, it was all he could concentrate on. He automatically inhaled sharply and shifted his head to his left, his body already making efforts to alleviate the ache: more oxygen and a potential change in position to help relieve pressure. Regardless, what he really wanted to do was to massage his temples, and not yet two seconds had passed when he moved his hands to do just that.

Or at least he tried. Alarms starting ringing in his head when he realized that, despite having full feeling in his arms and no sense of pressure about them, they were completely stuck immobile at his sides. With that sensation came the realization that he could not feel anything but a light breeze upon his face and that he was somehow face… down?

He forced his eyes open and his blurred gaze saw several long, bright, silver somethings below him. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them once more, and his pupils were able to better focus upon the polished edges of… needles.

His memory hurled its way back to the forefront of his mind. Doctor Banner. Stark. Alien spacecraft, and with some sort of powerful telekinetic user after the stone. His last memory was of the cables that had burst from underneath New York's streets— restraining, then suffocating him, and the creature saying, "You will only wish you were dead."

Stephen exhaled slowly and, after a quick test, determined that he could only move his head. He raised his gaze upwards to get a better look at his surroundings. From his peripherals he could see the gleam of several more needles floating about him, and he suspected they encircled his entire body. Beyond this rather alarming immediate environment was a metal walkway leading to an expansive window that displayed the bright stars of galaxies far, far away from Earth's atmosphere; they quickly passed by as they went further into the depths of the universe.

It did not take a genius to see how incredibly fucked he was.

The orchestrator of his current predicament was several feet away, staring at him with his cold, emotionless expression. The thin alien began to step forward and speak. "In all the time I've served Thanos, I have never failed him." He paused, as if to let this fact sink into Stephen's mind.

The sorcerer, for his part, did not need it; the moment he focused on the needles, he knew _precisely_ what the creature had in store for him. And despite the slow exhale, despite all his training, despite the utter _agony_ he has suffered from both his own follies and the mechanisms of others in the last two years— despite all that, he could not stop his adrenal glands from activating and the sure rush of adrenaline that will quickly spread throughout his entire body. He was unable to stop the sudden onset of complete terror at knowing that he is about to be tortured.

It is a fear that he can easily school from his expression, having been acquainted with it so many times within the last year. He all but perfected it with Dormammu.

Regardless, the alien seemed to enjoy the sound of his voice (which would not surprise Stephen in any which way), for he continued, "If I were to reach our rendezvous on Titan, with the Time Stone still attached to your vaguely irritating person, there would be judgement."

Suddenly, his face was held in place with the same, unseen restraints that held the rest of his body, and in his left peripheral he could see movement. His attention quickly moved away from the alien and to the large needle that was approaching him.

Stephen began to focus on his breathing. _Do not forget everything you have learned about breathing and meditation!_ It was, however, remarkably difficult to clear one's mind when a three-foot-long alien needle was about to penetrate one's face. His breath continued to quicken.

The needle touched the skin and he clenched his eyes tightly, only just managed to keep his mouth shut; it felt nothing like a needle. The sensation activated every nerve within the area, and they all burned with a fiery agony.

He forced his eyes back open, though he could not look upon the alien; rather he focused upon keeping his mouth clenched shut. He heard his captor begin to speak in a soft murmur: "Give me—" The sharp stab began to go deeper, spreading across his entire left cheek and climbing up towards his eyes and temple. His next breath was partially vocalized by a whimper he could not quite hold back, and he gulped at the spreading sensation. "—the Stone."

 _No!_

His resolve strengthened and what power he had remaining he sent to reinforce the wards upon the Eye of Agamotto. Stephen turned his gaze back to the alien, looking beyond the needle that was perilously close to his left eye to stare instead into the uncaring wickedness that laid within the face before him. He continued to grit his teeth and said nothing, but let his unwavering stare speak for him.

The alien lifted his left hand and lightly moved his index and middle finger, and one of needles upon Stephen's right edged in closer. The doctor began to mentally recite every bone in the body in alphabetical order. _Calcaneus, times two. Capitate bone, times two. Cervical vertebrae, times_ — He could not hold back a gasp as the shard entered his right cheek. He clenched his teeth once more and forced his eyes open again, staring over the shoulder of his tormentor as he continued his quiet recital. _Cervical vertebrae, time seven. Clavicle, times two. Coccyx, three to five, may fuse_ —

Even with the agony of the neurons burning upon his face, he was not so far gone as to miss the entrance of a presence of _something_ within the outskirts of his mind, beginning to worm its way in with all the stealth of a tiger and the slipperiness of an eel. Lesser men of sorcery would have easily missed it, but Stephen was anything but lesser. He tightened his mental defenses, and the already deeply-buried spell that protected the Eye was reinforced with more barriers.

"Interesting," the alien murmured, but it was clear he disliked this defense, for he twisted his fingers and the shards buried within Stephen's cheeks twisted with them, causing the doctor to involuntarily cry out. "You fancy yourself a powerful sorcerer, human, but I promise you that you know nothing regarding true power. Let me show you."

The presence attempting to infiltrate his mind took on less of the quality of something slippery and more of something… welcome, even pleasant. The pain momentarily faded as the presence made itself at home within the outer layer of his mind where the most open aspects of himself lay: his name, his skill set, the most basic and least important of his knowledge. There were times, depending on the dimension he was dealing with or the task that he was set to complete, that information in this part of the mind was sealed much deeper for a short time, but in general it remained here.

"You know much for a Terran," the creature murmured, and while Stephen heard him from in front of him, it almost seemed that his voice faintly echoed within his head. "Doctor Stephen Strange. A medical man turned sorcerer. There is a tale behind that, I can tell." The voice took on a calm and gentle quality and he felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy. "Stephen Strange, as you were designated upon the beginning of your existence. I, too, have such a name, but it was shed long ago for the honor of being Ebony Maw."

The presence in his head became more welcoming and it gently pushed upon the barriers that protected the deeper secrets of his mind. "Open your mind," echoed around and within him. His eyes had closed. "Open your mind and embrace the inevitable. Rejoice in this privilege you have been given, for you, Stephen Strange, will have my guidance, so that you may serve the Great Titan and become one of the children of Thanos."

 _Thanos._

Stephen's eyes flew open and what walls had cracked with Ebony Maw's persuasive powers were reinforced with a steel will, and the presence was forced out of his mind with the lifting of his eyelids.

There was no time to take pleasure in his victory, for even as the pain within his cheeks flared anew, the Maw snarled and retaliated. The shard that hovered so near his left eye twisted away, aiming instead for his temple, and with the move of one finger it speared itself just to the left of his brow.

He could not hold back a scream of pain. He gasped in agony and tried to recover his breath, eyes darting left and right to take in the three large needles piercing his face and the dozens more ready to embed themselves into every nerve ending within his body.

Ebony Maw calmed his temper even as Stephen tried to recover his breath. "Painful, aren't they? They were originally designed for microsurgery."

Even as he did his best to regain his composure, a streak of red came from above, well behind Ebony Maw. _Cloak…?_ But no, the red landed with a heavy thunk and he realized— _Stark?!_ Was he completely insane? Did he believe he could defeat him alone, when the alien had defeated them soundly on their home turf?

His tormentor clearly heard Stark's arrival, as well. "And any one of them," Ebony Maw turned away from Stephen to look at Iron Man, "could end your friend's life in an instant."

Stark's voice beyond the mask was clear despite the distance between them. "I gotta tell you he's not really my friend. Saving his life is more of a professional courtesy."

If he had the strength, Stephen would roll his eyes at the man's arrogance. At the moment, however, he found it a good deal more important to concentrate upon calming down his ragged breathing.

"You've saved nothing." As Ebony Maw lifted two random ship parts with either hand (and _what exactly_ the purposes of those random ship parts were, Stephen could not even begin to guess), the stabbing pain within his face began to recede. When the alien stepped further away from him and turned his full attention to Iron Man, there was a sudden relief as the three needles withdrew from his skin to a more bearable (if not exactly desirable) position a foot away. It did not feel as if they left open wounds upon their removal, but that was an anomaly to consider another time. "Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine."

"Yeah, but the kid's seen more movies."

Before Stephen could even begin to consider what _that_ meant, a small missile launcher emerged from the Iron Man suit and blasted a hole into the side of the ship. A sudden feeling of deja vu overcame the sorcerer; he was brought back to his first meeting with the Ancient One as his body was jerked towards the hole that led into the depths of space. Unlike the meeting in Kathmandu, however, _this_ trip would certainly lead to his death.

Another flash of red entered his vision, and this time, this time it was the good Cloak, wrapping one of its ends around his hand while another held onto a part of the ship. He tried to grasp it in turn, but his hand, his damned hand betrayed him and his grasp was not strong enough. The Cloak slipped and he was falling, being _pulled_ once more— oh God, he was going to die—

Something jerked his body back and his descent was abruptly halted, but before he could even begin to guess the what or how, he was being sucked into the depths of space again and then he was _outside the ship and this was not the way he wanted to die_ —

His descent was halted yet again, but he was already losing his breath and it was certainly only a matter of seconds before the lack of oxygen completely shut down his organs—

Suddenly he was flying… flying back. Stephen could not help but shout in surprise as he was hurled back into the spaceship, back up towards the main deck—

 _Ow._ Oh God, that hurt. He was too old for landings like that. He grimaced and, yet again, concentrated on gaining his breath back. Against all odds, he was not dead. He was no longer being held in the air and being turned into a pincushion with space needles. The Time Stone was still in his possession. He could work with this. _He can work with this._

With that in mind, he allowed himself one more grimace before pushing himself up. It was time to deal with Stark.

* * *

 _Ebony Maw is super cool and creepy in both the films and comics. I decided to take one of his biggest skills in the comics (the persuasion… thing) and use some hint of it during the minute Tony and Peter talk in the film and the part we don't see, for the extra creep factor. I hope it was enjoyable._

 _There is a bit of an inconsistency with the film where the three needles are still in Stephen when Tony gives his 'movies' line, but when Stephen is blown into space, they are not within him. I slightly changed the scene to try and give a logical explanation as to when the switch would happen, and to also keep the good doctor from being impaled (further)._


End file.
